The Grandfather Paradox
by Joules Mer
Summary: The Grandfather Paradox is a somewhat AU series of stories beginning after E2. Please note: series becomes TuR.
1. i Squared

Title: i Squared  
  
Author: Joules Mer  
  
Author's e-mail:  
  
Author's URL:  
  
Date: Posted to EntSTSlash 05/8/2004  
  
Archive: Yes to EntstCommunity and DKEB (if you want it). Everyone else please ask first.  
  
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise  
  
Category: Slash  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: T/R  
  
Summary: The beginning of a new future.  
  
Series: The Grandfather Paradox (first in series)  
  
Beta: None  
  
Spoilers: E2 (major spoilers), very minor for The Expanse, Future Tense, Two Days and Two Nights, and Shuttlepod One.  
  
Disclaimer: Enterprise is the property of Paramount. Characters just borrowed for fun. No profit was, or will be, made by this story.   
  
A/N: Written between 12 and 1 am... sorry for the rough spots. The series will be more AU later on.

* * *

I can't believe what I did in the mess hall yesterday, practically propositioning that poor ensign. Get a grip, Reed. The middle of the bloody expanse is not the place to get maudlin about possible futures. I once thought I had a chance with Trip. Back before the Expanse when we were all bright eyed explorers. Back when the captain had just discovered, to his amazement, that aliens might actually want to shoot at us. Back then the Xindi attack would have been inconceivable. Back then life was first contacts and grand adventures. Back then a really bad day was being tied up in my underwear with Trip Tucker, in a basement no less. Sounds like a holiday, or as close to heaven as I'll ever get.  
  
There was one extremely drunken night when I learned that Trip had, in the rather distant past, been known to stray from the fairer sex. He still doesn't remember sharing that information with me. In fact, he doesn't seem to remember anything at all after our sixth round, which is probably a good thing. I was always a bit too shy to act on this tidbit of information. It took me months to work up the courage just to ask him to dinner. When I finally garnered my courage, Dutch in actuality, and asked him to dinner, he accepted. He could easily have assumed I just wanted to talk about upgrades or weapons, but that little sideways smile he gave when he said yes hinted otherwise. I had butterflies in my stomach that day, I haven't felt like that since I got the acceptance letter from Starfleet. It was April 24th.  
  
After the attack Trip both closed off and lashed out, he's always been a man of many contradictions. There was so much anger in him. Hurt I might have been able to deal with, I know about hurt, but I didn't have a clue how to help him with his anger. It was frightening to see his formerly sunny personality so focused on vengeance. In some instances the intensity he radiated would make me believe he could be a cold blooded killer. He didn't seem like the same person at all.  
  
I'm so bloody pathetic. To think I must have pined for Charles Tucker the Third for the rest of my life. Even after he'd gotten married and had a child. What a sick bastard I am, I wonder if I ever hoped he'd leave T'Pol for me. Leave his son for me.  
  
I'm sitting in the mess hall again. Practically in a sulk, again. The pasta on my plate has turned into a congealed blob that I can't help but mash with my fork. I remember once saying that I'd like to travel into the future, it never occurred to me that all I'd see was failure. I don't want the future that I saw. I don't want it at all. The only problem is that I don't have a clue how to prevent it. All those women whose names I reeled off in the shuttlepod, they were more an attempt at bragging than anything else. They were an attempt to prevent Trip from thinking I was some kind of pathetic failure. The worst thing is that as much as I keep telling myself otherwise, I don't want anyone on Enterprise but Trip. The other problem is that when he pulled away from me he seemed to become close to T'Pol. I know she was doing some Vulcan mumbo jumbo to help him relax and sleep, but if the rumour mill is to be believed she's done a lot more than that with him.  
  
I shouldn't give up on my dreams because of some rumours, though. Even if they have him tiptoeing out of her quarters during the wee hours looking, and smelling, like hedonism incarnate. In all fairness I did some pulling back as well once we entered the expanse. At first I told myself that this was a place where I had to be more professional than ever, then I became almost paranoid that Hayes was going to be able to take over my duties. Neither left me much time for an overly emotional engineer who was sure he didn't need my help. Maybe he was afraid of me dying too, who can say.  
  
The makeshift door to the mess shudders open and who should step in but a certain chief engineer. I watch him select a plate and scan the room, obviously looking for space at a table. I lurch to my feet and curse my legs which have started to shake on their own accord. "Commander!" He sees me and flashes a tired smile. The gesture emboldens me to continue and I wave at the chair next to me, "This seat is available."  
  



	2. A Minimal Solution

Title: A Minimal Solution  
  
Author: Joules Mer  
  
Author's e-mail:  
  
Author's URL:  
  
Date: Posted to EntSTSlash 05/18/2004  
  
Archive: Yes to EntSTCommunity. Everyone else please ask first.  
  
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise  
  
Category: Slash  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: T/R  
  
Summary: The beginning of a new future.  
  
Series: The Grandfather Paradox (second in series, sequel to i Squared)  
  
Beta: None  
  
Spoilers: E2 (major spoilers), very minor for The Expanse, Future Tense, Two Days and Two Nights, and Shuttlepod One.  
  
Disclaimer: Enterprise is the property of Paramount. Characters just borrowed for fun. No profit was, or will be, made by this story.  
  
A/N: Once again written between 12 and 1 am (or maybe more like 12 and 2) ... and people wonder why I look tired during the day. The series will be more AU later on.

* * *

Finding out I married T'Pol really through me for a loop. I once, very briefly, thought I had a chance with her. I suppose it was immediately after our first kiss, but our morning after conversation made those hopes evaporate. It also coincided with Samantha starting to avoid me, I guess the mess hall wasn't the best place for a talk like that. When I mentioned our son to her she reminded me I was merely some experiment in human sexuality, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. Just when I think I might be starting to understand her, she knocks me on my ass.  
  
Meeting Lorian was without a doubt the strangest thing that has ever happened to me. It made me nostalgic in a bittersweet and kinda sad way. When we were younger, she just about to start university and me just finishing, Lizzy and I made a pact to utterly spoil each other's children. For some reason that day stuck with me. I'd come home from university for the weekend and everyone else had gone out leaving the two of us home alone. The next door neighbour came over, he had to run out somewhere and was hoping my mom could look after his kids until his wife got home from work. Since it was only going to be an hour or so we volunteered, we'd both babysat a fair bit when we were younger. There was something about goofing around playing hide and seek with little kids which made us start to think about our futures, if only in playful and wild speculation. She told me I should name my son Charles so our family could have it's own mini-dynasty of Charleses. Lizzy had some funny names in mind for her kids, stuff like Viola, Nathaniel, Lennox, and Mariana. She liked Shakespeare way too much for someone her age.  
  
Damn, just thinking about her makes my chest hurt. I give up and put away my tools. It's about time I took Phlox's advice and got something to eat followed by some sleep, repairs will have to wait until tomorrow. My stomach seems to growl all the way to what's left of the mess hall. The door that someone made today opens with a lurch and I make a beeline for the cabinets, selecting some kind of pasta dish. At this point I'm too tired to care what it is so long as it's edible.  
  
I scan the room looking for somewhere to sit and a flash of motion catches my eye. Malcolm climbs to his feet and surprises me by calling across the crowded room, "Commander!" I give him the best smile I can manage and he waves at the empty chair next to his, "This seat is available." My grin widens a bit and I amble over, plunking my plate onto the table and collapsing into the chair.  
  
I get a good look at his plate and can't help but comment, "Geez, Malcolm, what did your dinner ever do to you?"  
  
He looks at the mash of cold pasta and makes a face. "I guess I got caught in thought for a minute there."  
  
I raise an eyebrow. "Don't hurt yourself."  
  
He gives a short laugh at that and I can't help but grin too, my earlier gloom completely dispelled. "Given what you read on a regular basis I think that's more of a worry for you."  
  
I can't help but settle into the old argument, "I'll have you know that..."  
  
He cuts me off before I can finish. "Superman is laced with metaphor." Damn, where did he learn to do my accent like that?  
  
I laugh it off and decide that maybe I should find out what's really up. "So what were you thinking about that was so enthralling you did that." I wave at his pasta.  
  
Malcolm grimaces and just as I think he's going to tell me it was nothing important or to mind my own business he surprises me. "The other ship and her crew."  
  
"Oh." I guess I should have expected that answer, but I'm still caught off guard.  
  
"I didn't get married or have any children. You're looking at the last of the Reeds. A rather unceremonious end."  
  
He seems really melancholy about it, and guess I would be too if I were in his place. "T'Pol and I had a son. I died when he was fourteen, but I guess since he was half Vulcan he'd have seemed younger than that. I dunno if that sounds much better."  
  
"At least you had a son."  
  
I can't keep the frown from my face. "With T'Pol."  
  
Malcolm gives me this funny look. "You wouldn't want to have a child with T'Pol?"  
  
I consider the question for a moment before answering, "No. Not like that." I take a few bites of my pasta and continue, "For a little while I was kinda... infatuated with her. She doesn't feel the same, hell, she doesn't let herself feel at all. Although she has been kinda squirrelly lately. Now I guess I think of her as a friend. A friend with really nice... assets." Malcolm smirks at that so I carry on, "I don't know how I feel about Lorian. He's not quite what I pictured my son being like, in a few ways. I always thought my son would be called Charles."  
  
He nods. "It's a nice name."  
  
I give him a sharp look at the off hand comment, but he's just taking a sip of his drink as if he hadn't said anything. Still kind of off balance I just grunt out, "Yeah, it is." I sit there in silence for a moment before I decide what the hell, "I promised Lizzy I'd call my son Charles. It was her idea."  
  
"You can still have a son called Charles."  
  
"But I didn't, or I won't." I spear a hapless piece of pasta in frustration, time travel always makes my head hurt. "The fact that he was called Lorian kinda makes me think I'd given up on my dream, and my promise to Lizzy." I scrub a hand over my face. "I never thought I'd do that."  
  
"It's not our future, Trip. Not anymore." Malcolm gives me a weak but encouraging smile. "I for one intend to make sure it turns out differently."  
  
Malcolm's like a rock. He anchors me through whatever storm envelopes us. I suppose he's right, we've already veered from that path already. I can almost feel a weight lifting off my shoulders. "Me too, Malcolm. Me too."  
  
After that we stray from the serious. While I had originally planned on just grabbing a quick bite to eat, my dinner stretches to over an hour as Malcolm and I sit and chat. A yawn that is impossible to stifle causes him to stop mid sentence and fix me with an assessing gaze. "When did you last sleep?"  
  
I squirm uncomfortably in my seat and try to remember. "Oh, I dunno, a while ago. I'm okay, though." I don't really want this evening to end.  
  
He isn't buying it. "Right." Malcolm fixes me with this skeptical look and it's like he can see clear through me. "I think it's time we got some sleep. It will be a busy day tomorrow."  
  
I roll my eyes theatrically and nod my acquiescence, I can't argue with that. "Fine, fine." I heave myself out of my chair and gather together my dishes, Malcolm doing the same. We put our dirty dishes in the receptor and head towards our quarters, resuming the conversation that my yawn had so rudely interrupted. I'd forgotten how easy Malcolm is to talk to, I haven't felt this relaxed since before we entered the Expanse. We stop at the door to his quarters and I give him a smile and clap him on the back before I carry on to my cabin. There's a spring in my step that has been missing since Lizzy was killed. An unbidden thought strays into my mind: I wonder how Malcolm feels about kids? 


	3. Twenty Percent

Title: Twenty Percent  
  
Author: Joules Mer  
  
Author's e-mail:  
  
Author's URL:  
  
Date: Posted to EntSTSlash 06/12/2004  
  
Archive: Yes to EntSTCommunity. Everyone else please ask first.  
  
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise  
  
Category: Slash  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: T/R  
  
Summary: The beginning of a new future.  
  
Series: The Grandfather Paradox (third in series, sequel to A Minimal Solution)  
  
Beta: None  
  
Spoilers: The Council (major spoilers), Countdown, Anomaly, and The Expanse.  
  
Disclaimer: Enterprise is the property of Paramount. Characters just borrowed for fun. No profit was, or will be, made by this story. 

* * *

On my first day of security training we were divided into groups of five. The commodore told us to take a look at each person in our group, because if we were sent on a mission it would be acceptable for one of us not to make it back. One in five. Twenty percent. I'd always thought that sounded like an awfully large number.  
  
Since then my life has been spent making sure none of my crewmates wind up as a "one in five." If someone has to be a statistic it's better me than one of them anyhow. I like to think I've done a pretty good job. Or, I did a pretty good job up until the Xindi mission.  
  
Hawkins was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. There have been too many deaths on this mission, far too many of them on my watch. So far I've swallowed my complaints because of what we're here to do. Who would I talk to, anyway? The captain is so focused on "our mission" he can barely see straight. Trip has an insatiable thirst for vengeance, and T'Pol has been running around as if she has a screw loose. I'm stuck biting my tongue and sitting on my hands.  
  
I wasn't lying to Hayes when I said it happened very fast. Travis managed to shout a warning to us, but we couldn't see anything inside that damned sphere. I don't know how Hawkins spotted it before me, but he managed to somehow. I tried to destroy it. I know I hit it a few times even after it had him, but the effort was too little too late. It happened so bloody quickly, but his strangled scream still rings in my ears.  
  
"Malcolm?" I wearily raise my head. I'd hoped no one would bother me if I hunkered down in the corner table. It's Trip. "You okay?" Before I can tell him I'd rather be alone he sets his mug on the table and slips into the chair across from me.  
  
My habitual "I'm fine" sticks in my throat so I just manage to choke out the truth. "No."  
  
Brow furrowed in concern, Trip leans across the table. "What's wrong?"  
  
What's wrong? I almost laugh at the absurdity of the question. What else can you do when you're in a situation where nothing is right. "Just..." I scrub a hand over my eyes and talk down into my cold mug of tea, "Hawkins was killed... Inside the sphere." I have to clear my throat before I can continue, "There were these... arms. One grabbed him in its pincers. I think he was vaporized." I shake my head gently, but the image doesn't disappear, "He was trying to fight it, even hitting it with his hands."  
  
"I'm sorry, Malcolm. I know you did everything you could."  
  
The words grate in my throat as I speak, "Blood on my hands, Trip."  
  
His face is ashen. "Malcolm..." Trip gulps convulsively, which I notice with mild interest. It's almost as if he cares. When Fuller died he only cared because it would make it harder to carry out our mission. Back then Trip saw our mission as a "one way ticket." He wasn't about to mourn each loss along the way. All he cared about was vengeance, I don't dare let myself hope that he might have changed.  
  
"I yelled at T'Pol." My voice sounds flat, but I can't bring myself to care.  
  
"What? When?" Trip's eyes are wide and he's looking at me as if I've just sprouted another head.  
  
"In the shuttlepod, on the way back." I take a shuddering breath and notice that my eyes feel prickly. "Twenty-three, Trip."  
  
He frowns slightly, but then enlightenment dawns. His voice is small, "People?"  
  
I nod and continue softly, "Twenty-three men and women have died on this mission. That's far too many."  
  
"We knew the risks, Malcolm. Every single one of us knew how dangerous this mission would be, but we all signed on."  
  
"T'Pol said 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.' She said everyone here understood that."  
  
"Smart lady."  
  
"But it's my job to look after the few." I swipe at my eyes in an effort to keep from breaking down. "I've failed."  
  
"You haven't failed, Malcolm. From what I can see you've done a damn good job given the circumstances."  
  
"Hayes blames me. For Hawkins at least."  
  
"You don't know that." His face suddenly fills with anger. "Did he say something to you?"  
  
I shake my head. "He requested a 'full report' on the incident. I haven't asked him directly if he blames me, but how can he not?"  
  
"Because he knows you'd have done everything in your power to prevent it. Because he knows you're not reckless or negligent. Accidents will happen and people will die, that doesn't mean it's your fault."  
  
"I..." I'm still not so sure.  
  
Trip reaches across the table and lays his hand over mine. He waits until I look up and then speaks slowly and clearly, "It wasn't your fault, Malcolm." His words are like a benediction and I can feel a weight lifting off my shoulders. Not my fault. When I look into his earnest face, I think I can believe it. 


	4. Uncertainty

Title: Uncertainty  
  
Author: Joules Mer  
  
Author's e-mail:  
  
Author's URL:  
  
Date: Posted to EntSTSlash 09/17/2004  
  
Archive: Will be sent to EntSTCommunity. Everyone else please ask first.  
  
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise  
  
Category: Slash  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: T/R  
  
Summary: The beginning of a new future.  
  
Series: The Grandfather Paradox (fourth in series, sequel to Twenty Percent)  
  
Beta: None  
  
Spoilers: Countdown (major spoilers), general season 3.  
  
Disclaimer: Enterprise is the property of Paramount. Characters just borrowed for fun. No profit was, or will be, made by this story.   
  
A/N: The series will become very AU soon.  
  


"I can live with uncertainty."

_Richard Feynman_

  
  
There's someone leaning heavily against the wall in the corridor ahead. He doesn't even notice when I approach so I move to stand in front of him. "What's wrong?"  
  
Malcolm jumps at my words, but once he realizes who it is he relaxes again. "Noth..." The look I give him stops the denial in it's tracks. "I was just in sickbay..."  
  
My heart leaps into my throat at the expression on his face. "Hoshi?"  
  
He hurries to reassure me. "No, Trip, she's stable. Phlox is looking after her."  
  
"Then?"  
  
He looks down at his feet for a moment before meeting my eyes again. "Hayes is dead. We were talking and then he just..."  
  
"Damn." While I could tell he was critically injured when he collapsed on the transporter, I had hoped Phlox could save him. Even after all our time in the Delphic Expanse I still think of the doctor as a miracle worker. I guess we've even run out of miracles at this point. With his head down again Malcolm looks lost. While they fought like cats and dogs I can tell the major's death is hitting Malcolm hard. I want to try and help, but am uncertain what to do. I'm afraid that any gesture I make won't be appreciated. This leaves me, as usual, just standing uncomfortably by him wishing I could do something. All at once the enormity of what has happened hits me and I can't help but reach out and place a hand on Malcolm's shoulder, gripping the living flesh through the fabric of his uniform. Hayes is dead. It could just as easily have been Malcolm. He wanted to be the one to lead the team to rescue Hoshi.  
  
He doesn't say anything at the contact and we stand like that for a while before he shrugs me off. "I have to go talk to the MACOs." He straightens up and visibly pulls himself together. I nod mutely, not envying him that task at all. Malcolm's face is expressionless as he turns and walks back the way I came.  
  
The captain hasn't said much about his exact plans, but with Hayes gone it means that Malcolm will be leading the team into the weapon. "Hey Malcolm." He turns and looks back at my soft call. "Take care of yourself."  
  
One side of his mouth twitches upwards and he gives a curt nod. I turn to the turbolift doors and just catch a "you too" before they close behind me.  
  


2718282

  
  
They're both going. As soon as I hear I run to the airlock, desperate to catch them before they leave. Malcolm is in full armoury officer mode, his favourite rifle in one hand and a box of supplies in the other. He's about to board Degra's ship, but when I call out to him he stops and turns around. When he looks at me everything I'd been meaning to say flies out of my mind and something impulsive comes out instead. "Bring me back a piece of that weapon." He looks almost confused at my words, as if they're not what he was expecting. "A souvenir."  
  
"With pleasure." A nod to me, a word to the captain and he's gone. From the way he nods I can let myself believe he understands. Then Jon and I are left standing there, trying to be blasé about what could be our last conversation. Ten years of friendship and all I can do is call out, "Good luck."  
  
He truly understands and his face softens as he turns back, a ghost of a smile crossing his features. He looks to T'Pol who has been silent. "I expect you to keep him in line." My eyes flicker guiltily to the floor for a moment before we briefly lock gazes. Then he's gone too. I stand at the closed door for a moment after T'Pol leaves, waiting until I hear the docking port retract. Pressing my fingers to the cold metal I whisper softly, Goodbye."  
  



	5. Improbable

Title: Improbable  
  
Author: Joules Mer  
  
Author's e-mail:  
  
Author's URL:  
  
Date: Posted to EntSTSlash 9/20/20004  
  
Archive: Will be sent to EntSTCommunity. Everyone else please ask first.  
  
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise  
  
Category: Slash  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: T/R  
  
Summary: The beginning of a new future.  
  
Series: The Grandfather Paradox (fifth in series, sequel to Uncertainty)  
  
Beta: None  
  
Spoilers: Zero Hour and Countdown (major spoilers), general season 3.  
  
Disclaimer: Enterprise is the property of Paramount. Characters just borrowed for fun. No profit was, or will be, made by this story.  
  
A/N: AU  


* * *

  


"Given so much time, the 'impossible' becomes possible, the possible probable, and the probable virtually certain. One only has to wait: time itself performs miracles."  


-George Wald  


  
  
The door to the airlock slides open and I'm confronted with Trip and T'Pol standing by the controls. I notice that they appear to have something wrong with their skin, but don't dwell on it in the face of what's happened. "It's done."  
  
"Done?" T'Pol prods me for more details I don't want to give.  
  
"Captain Archer destroyed the weapon."  
  
"Where is he? Is he okay?"  
  
Trip's gaze flits between the airlock and my face. I make sure I have his full attention before I speak. I don't want to say this twice. "Captain didn't make it, Trip."  
  
You can almost see a wave of denial crash over him. "What do you mean he didn't make it?"  
  
"The weapon exploded..." There's a hitch in my voice and I have to force out the rest of the words, "before he could transport to Degra's ship."  
  
He's stunned. Before he can recover from the shock of my announcement Hoshi pulls him into a tight hug. Not wanting to break down in front of T'Pol and the subordinates milling around I hurry off to make myself busy returning my rifle and a spare detonator to the armoury. Some friend I am. I can't even bring myself to look back.  
  


2718282

  
  
It's disturbing to look out the windows and only see the belly of an alien ship. I feel like Kipling's mariner, swallowed raft and all by a whale. My mother used to tell me that story when I was little, and up till now the memory had always been comforting. We're about five hours from Earth now, and I'm not supposed to be back on duty for another two. T'Pol relieved me of duty soon after I'd returned my rifle. I can't help but wonder if she thinks the captain's death was my fault. An unexpected chime from my door catches me lost in thought and it takes a moment for me to respond. "Yes?"  
  
There's a short hesitation before the door slides open and a figure stands framed in the doorway. "Hi Malcolm." Trip gives me an inscrutable glance before continuing softly. "Can I come in?"  
  
It takes me a moment to unstick my suddenly dry tongue from the roof of my mouth. "Of course."  
  
A few quick strides from the doorway and he collapses into my small sofa. He doesn't say anything at first, just stares at his feet. The silence is long enough to make me uncomfortable and I start to fiddle with the edge of the blanket I'm sitting on. I don't know what to say so he's forced to finally break the silence. "Do you want me to go?" My head snaps up at that. Trip's sitting so close to the edge of the seat that our knees are almost touching across the gap between the sofa and my bed.  
  
"No. I'm glad you're here." Which it true. Moping around alone wasn't getting me anywhere.  
  
He cocks his head slightly. "You seemed pretty surprised to see me."  
  
"No..." There's no use lying to him and I can't bring myself to anyway. "I just... I thought you'd have gone to T'Pol."  
  
Though the deep lines of pain on his face shines a ghost of a smile, he's obviously remembering something. "She might have shared some... intimate information with me, but with the Cap'n gone," His voice hitches at that and the last few words come out sounding strangled, "you're my best friend."  
  
I feel a wave of guilt, even though I don't really know what I could have done differently. The words catch in my throat, "I tried, Trip."  
  
"I know, Malcolm." He sounds so tired.  
  
I look down at my hands and the pleats they have made in the bedspread. "He ordered me to go. To take Hoshi and go."  
  
I hear Trip take a juddering breath at that and when he speaks his voice is muffled by the hand he's holding over his face. "I knew he was going to pull something like that. I could tell. I should have warned you, Malcolm."  
  
I can't believe Trip blames himself for the captain's death. Himself and not me. When he lowers his hand I can see the beginnings of tear tracks on his face which is badly contorted as he tries to hold his emotions in. I impulsively reach out and grab his hand, using it to pull him up off the sofa and over to sit next to me. I curl one arm around his shoulders tightly and speak softly into his ear. "Oh, Trip. Let it out. Let it all out." And he finally, after all the months and all the deaths, starts to cry. Really cry. He's clutching at my wrist hard enough to hurt and making a mess on my uniform, but I don't care.  
  
After a while his sobs subside until they stop altogether and he becomes a dead weight against my side. Since he doesn't wake when I disentangle myself I manoeuvre him into a comfortable position, pull off his boots, and pull the blanket over him. Checking the time I decide to go and check in on Hoshi before going on shift. I leave him sleeping in the bed, setting my alarm for an hour before we're due to arrive home.  
  


2718282 

  
  
I shift anxiously in my chair at tactical, wondering if I should comm my quarters to make sure he woke up on time. Even Hoshi has come up from sickbay, and she still looks far too pale. I know Trip wouldn't want to miss our arrival home.  
  
The turbolift door slides open and he's here, running a hand through his hair to smooth it down. He goes straight to the science station and plops down in the seat normally occupied by T'Pol. "Mind if we take a look?" When she nods he turns on the main viewer, magnifying until we can get a good look at what we've fought for. Raw emotion grates in Trip's throat. "Prettiest sight I ever saw, and it's all in one piece."  
  
I swallow my emotions as best I can and offer, "The Captain would be proud."  
  
The moment is broken when T'Pol returns to business. "Open a channel to Starfleet Headquarters."  
  
The comm beeps a few times before Hoshi comments, "Strange."  
  
"What?"  
  
"They're not responding."  
  
I check my own scans in confusion. "You'd think they'd be waiting with bated breath."  
  
"Try another frequency."  
  
Confusion turns to concern when Travis speaks up. "I'm not picking up the orbital platforms."  
  
Still hoping there's a rational explanation for the silence I offer one thing I know for certain. "The Reptilians destroyed Yosemite Station."  
  
My hopes are dashed when Travis slowly shakes his head. "It's not just Yosemite. There's nothing coming from any of them."  
  
The comm gives a final chirp and Hoshi looks up. "I've rotated through all the frequencies."  
  
T'Pol paces around the bridge, for a Vulcan she seems agitated. "Contact the Lunar 1 colony."  
  
"I already tried."  
  
Before I can request to lead a team T'Pol turns to Trip. "Prepare a shuttlepod. I want you and Ensign Mayweather to get down to San Francisco. Find out what's wrong."  
  


2718282

  
  
After what seems like an interminable wait Hoshi announces that we're being hailed. "Shuttlepod One to Enterprise." Trip's excited voice squawks through the bridge speakers accompanied by an odd metalic clattering sound.  
  
"Enterprise. What's your status, Commander?" T'Pol's voice from the captain's chair is a sorry reminder of what we've lost.  
  
"We're under attack!"  
  
I straighten in my seat at this unexpected information, a thousand questions on the tip of my tongue prompted by sudden fear for Trip and Travis. "Who's attacking you?"  
  
"We're being fired on by projectile weapons. They're not doing much but making noise. There are airplanes- just like in the old history books."  
  
"Return to Enterprise."  
  
"We're on our way." Trip cuts the comm channel and silence fills the bridge. We've made it home, but it's clear something is very wrong.  
  


2718282

  
  
"... and the bridge was there, but when we closed in we saw HQ was missing. There were these planes coming at us in formation just after we broke through the clouds. They had propellors!" For a moment I stop focusing on Trip's raving and just allow myself to be relieved they made it back to Enterprise safely. When he finally winds down I lean across the table in the command centre and start to speak. "So Earth appears to be pre-warp. Have we somehow gone back in time?" I shift in my seat as my frustration at an incomprehensible situation mounts. "Why is it like this?"  
  
"Because it was in their interest to hold back the level of technology." As one we turn to face the man standing in the doorway of the command centre. Daniels takes another step inside and continues to speak as he moves to join us at the table. "You haven't travelled anywhere in time. A species called the Agrios is behind the change in the timeline."  
  
T'Pol merely raises an eyebrow at our unexpected guest. "Am I to presume you know what has happened?"  
  
"The Agrios are going to annex Earth."  
  
That doesn't make sense to me. "Then why have they made it like this rather than just gone and annexed it properly?"  
  
"You'll notice we tend to only send back one or two people or a small vessel at a time. The energy required for more, depending how much time you want to skip over, is prohibitive. From what I can tell an invasion force will arrive about sixty years from now. That's about as far back as they can send a large amount of personnel and supplies. Normally we monitor the Agrios very carefully, they have always been militant expansionists, but with recent events we were not as diligent as we should have been. My guess is that they knew your Earth of 2214 would have been able to defend itself against such an attack. To get around that it appears they sent teams of individuals back to the 20th century and somehow managed to prolong the second world war without allowing substantial increases in the level of technology. This Earth is no match for their technology and will be overrun. My future no longer exists."  
  
My forehead furrows at the subtleties of time travel. "Then how are you here?"  
  
"I was in the past when they changed the future."  
  
Travis gets an odd look on his face and speaks up, "Wait, then how are we here?"  
  
"From what I can tell the spatial anomalies in the Expanse can also be temporal. The probability of it happening is almost nonexistent, but if their meddling coincided with a temporal anomaly you could continue to exist in this new timeline." Even T'Pol seems skeptical of that explanation. Daniels shrugs. "It's the best I can come up with, and it isn't impossible."  
  
Casting aside suppositions I try to turn to practical matters. "So what do we do?"  
  
"We get Captain Archer and try to stop the initial Agrios incursion. With some help I should be able to modify my equipment enough to take a small team."  
  
"The Cap'n's dead." Trip fixes Daniels with a dull stare. "He was killed destroying the sphere, I don't see how you can undo his death without letting Earth be completely destroyed."  
  
"Captain Archer is alive."  
  
"What?" I can't stay the outburst. How dare he give Trip false hope when I don't see how the captain could have survived.  
  
"How do you know he is alive?"  
  
Daniels seems relieved to be able to turn and answer T'Pol instead of confronting my disbelief and anger. "My organization implants transponders in key historical figures. I'm picking up a signal from Captain Archer's. He's on Earth."  
  
"And he's not dead?" There's a distinct tremble in Trip's voice which he tries to hide.  
  
Confidence is plain in Daniels' tone. "It wouldn't work if he were."  
  
Everyone allows a measure of relief to show on their faces, but I don't think any of us can truly let ourselves believe the captain is alive until we see him in the flesh. After a moment another question presents itself to me and I shift uncomfortably. "Just... how many of us have you put transponders in?"  
  
Daniels merely gives me a funny smile before changing the topic completely. "If I tie in my equipment to Enterprise's scanners we may be able to pinpoint the captain's location on the surface. I'll need some help reconfiguring a power source so that my equipment will work. I have to warn you, though, this isn't a sure thing at all. We can try to reduce the risks, but moving a group of people with something designed for a single person is dangerous."  
  
"But we have to try." I can tell by the faces of my colleagues that they all agree with Trip's statement.  
  
Seeing that the meeting is about to break up I speak up, "Technology usually increases dramatically during wartime. It was during World War Two that the atomic bomb was created. How could they keep Earth this primitive for over two hundred years?"  
  
Daniels frowns. "I don't know, but maybe we can find out."  
  



	6. Another Time

  
Title: Another Time  
  
Author: Joules Mer  
  
Author's e-mail:  
  
Author's URL:  
  
Date: Posted to EntSTSlash 10/5/2004  
  
Archive: Yes to EntSTCommunity. Everyone else please ask first.  
  
Fandom: Star Trek Enterprise  
  
Category: Slash  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Tu/R  
  
Summary: The beginning of a new future.  
  
Series: The Grandfather Paradox (6th in series)  
  
Sequel to: Improbable  
  
Beta: None  
  
Spoilers: Zero Hour (major spoilers), general season 3.  
  
Disclaimer: Enterprise is the property of Paramount. Characters just borrowed for fun. No profit was, or will be, made by this story. 

* * *

"They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself." - Andy Warhol  


  
  
Ukraine. I stare at the screen in dismay, wishing I could change the readings through sheer force of will.  
  
"Bloody hell." The muttered expletive by my left ear causes my lips to twist into a wry smile despite the situation. Malcolm shifts on his feet, something he usually does when he's anxious, and I turn to face him.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
He gives that funny half smirk of his. "I really hope we can pick him up with the transporter because I don't fancy going down there."  
  
I'm about to reply when we're interrupted by T'Pol coming out of the ready room. Her voice cuts across the bridge as she addresses us, "Have you located the captain's biosign?"  
  
Malcolm visibly stiffens as T'Pol and Daniels approach us. I'm glad he doesn't get like that around me anymore, not even when we're on duty. "We've isolated the transponder signal." Malcolm hurries over to the tactical station and starts calling up information, after a moment he looks up. "I can't get a strong enough lock for a beam out. The biosign is just too weak and there are too many people nearby. I can't separate the captain from the others. We'll have to go down there with a homing beacon."  
  
I don't like the sound of that. It was bad enough being shot at when I was in a shuttlepod and I sure as hell didn't survive the expanse just to die on Earth. "Can we get a visual of the Cap'n's location?" Malcolm calls it up on the main viewer and magnifies until what looks like a group of large tents is visible. It's clearly in Axis territory, about fifteen kilometers from what appears to be a front line.  
  
Just as the implications of the location are settling in Daniels speaks up, "Anyone who goes down there should go undercover."  
  
"Why?" Malcolm has his arms crossed over his chest and his stance is defiant. He wants to go in there phase pistols blazing, and I have to say I agree with him. "We don't want to preserve this timeline so it doesn't matter if they see our technology."  
  
"It might. I doubt the Agrios know we're here. We don't want them to realize they haven't fully changed the timeline." I suppose I can't argue with that, and neither can Malcolm.  
  
He just nods resignedly. "Fine. I'll go."  
  
Feeling things sliding out of my control I blurt out, "I'm going too." Instead of arguing like I'd expected them to, Malcolm and T'Pol just nod. I guess they'd been prepared for me to say that.  
  
Malcolm leans over his console and waves a hand at the viewer. "But what about any changes?"  
  
"Changes?" I don't see where Malcolm is going with that.  
  
"We know what it was like during the second world war, but we don't know exactly what weapons and uniforms they're wearing now. It would be rather foolish to assume nothing has changed."  
  
T'Pol raises an eyebrow. "What do you suggest we do?"  
  
"I think we should abduct someone."  
  
My mouth drops open at his idea. "Are you serious?" Malcolm gives me a pointed look and I don't know why I even bother to ask anymore.  
  
He turns back to his station for a moment before continuing, "I'm detecting a number of reasonably isolated biosigns some distance from the captain's location. They're probably just patrols of some sort. I should be able to lock onto one of them without too much trouble."  
  


2718282

  
  
"Wa-" Malcolm stuns the man before he can get the word out, much less raise his gun. He quickly holsters his phase pistol before leaping onto the dais and snatching the rifle from the prone figure.  
  
Phlox steps up and there's a hiss as he injects a hypospray full of sedatives into the man's bloodstream. "He should be unconscious for at least two hours."  
  
Malcolm gives a curt nod and rolls our captive onto his back. I stand uncomfortably back by the transporter controls as Malcolm starts to strip the unconscious man, setting a pistol and knife off to the side as they're revealed. At a motion from Malcolm one of the security officers goes and helps get the coat and shirt off the man. When he's wearing nothing more than his underwear a pair of crewmen set to work hauling him down to the brig. The boots, clothes, and gear are rolled up into a bundle that Malcolm stuffs under his arm. He catches me staring and shrugs. "It's not like there was a better way to get ahold of it." I guess he's right.  
  


2718282

  
  
It only takes the quartermaster an hour to whip up uniforms for us. The only things we can't properly duplicate are the weapons. The stocks of the rifle and pistol, along with the handle of the knife, are actually made of wood. That isn't something we have handy on a starship. As a compromise, I've got the rifle slung over my back and Malcolm has the pistol and knife. He's also got a scanner hidden in some sort of metal cover he says looks like a "cigarette case." Malcolm catches me pulling at my jacket and I shrug. "This uniform gives me the creeps." I can tell from the way he nods that he feels the same way.  
  
The transporter hums as it powers up and I can't help but screw my eyes shut. I still don't trust the damn things. When the tingling stops the first thing I'm aware of is a sudden shock of cold. It's winter. Our breath forms white clouds and the frosty ground crackles and snaps under our feet. Malcolm's nose is already pink and he sniffs absently before consulting the scanner. "That way." He carefully tucks the scanner into his pocket and sets off at a brisk pace through the trees. Grimacing at the cold I turn up my collar and jam my hands as deeply into my pockets as they'll go before following.  
  
I've lost track of how long we've been walking when Malcolm stops so suddenly I almost walk into him. "Do you see that?" He murmurs so softly I can barely hear him. At first I don't know what the hell he's talking about, but after looking very carefully in the direction he indicated I see it. There's a shimmery patch, almost like a vague outline in the air. Whatever it is it's near the ground and not five meters from us.  
  
I lick my lips and whisper back as softly as I can, "Yes."  
  
Malcolm draws the pistol he took from our prisoner and slowly bends down to pick up a long stick. "Stay here." His tone brooks no argument so I pull the rifle off my back and try to make it feel less awkward in my hands. Malcolm slowly creeps up to the distortion and carefully prods it with his stick. The wood stops about 30 centimeters from the ground as it hits something solid. After a few good pokes Malcolm drops the stick and reaches out with his hand. I hold my breath as he gently runs his hand over the distortion, tracing a surprisingly large region in the air. Since it doesn't seem like anything bad is going to happen I tiptoe over and crouch next to him.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Malcolm turns to me with a frown. "It's a body."  
  
I actually rear up at that, I can't help it. "What?"  
  
He ignores me and feels around for a moment before stating, "It's a Suliban."  
  
I sound like a padd with broken playback as I repeat myself. "What?"  
  
He twists and looks up at me, squinting a little into the sun. "The skin. I can feel the texture, it may be frozen but it's definitely Suliban." I don't know how he can be so cool while poking at a dead body. He suddenly starts waving his hand around on the far side of the distortion, peering at it through the shimmer. "That's odd."  
  
I force myself to crouch back down so that I'm shoulder to shoulder with him. "What's odd?"  
  
When he turns to me I notice he's got that funny pensive look on his face that's so typically Malcolm. "It's not camouflage. Look, you can see right through it. The whole body has been cloaked." A quick inspection proves he's right. We can only see it because a thin layer of ice has formed over the corpse.  
  
"But what's a Suliban doing on Earth? Did Daniels say anything to you about them?"  
  
He looks just as perplexed as I feel when he shakes his head. "They're not supposed to be here, much less be cloaked."  
  
I can hear the question in his tone and offer, "If you intentionally overloaded the cloaking generator of a cell ship you could cloak yourself. Like with my arm." Looking around I notice an odd depression in the ground a little ways away. On a hunch I get up and walk towards it until a jolt of pain runs up my arms when I stub my fingers on something solid. Malcolm's beside me in an instant and we run our hands over the cold metal that we can't see. It doesn't take us long to realize that it's a cell ship, and if the dents are anything to go by it's clearly seen better days. Despite a fair bit of effort we can't figure out how to get inside, it's like the damn thing is upside down.   
  
Finally Malcolm makes a huffing noise and takes a step back. "This isn't getting us anywhere."  
  
I have to grit my teeth to keep from making some snappy remark about stating the obvious. "Well, what do you think we should do?"  
  
He ignores me as he pulls out the scanner, consults it, and tucks it back into a pocket. "We've only got an hour or so of light left. The captain's biosign is about three kilometres that way. I think we should leave now and try to get there before dark so we can get a look at what we're dealing with."  
  
"But what about the Suliban?" He gives me that look. That, "I think you're a complete moron right now, but I'll tolerate it because you're my superior officer" look.  
  
"It's not like he's going anywhere." I can't argue with that so I just nod and keep my mouth shut as he turns and starts to lead the way through the woods.  
  


2718282

  
  
The light has diminished to a wintery twilight when we finally reach the edge of a clearing. Despite the thick layer of ice and frost on the ground Malcolm insists we slither on our stomachs when we get close enough to be seen. We wind up jammed together under a bush, peering out through the greenery with our binoculars. There are six large tents set up with a number of trucks and other vehicles parked nearby. People, not all in military uniform, are hurrying to and fro. "It's a field hospital."  
  
"Huh?" I wince inwardly at my monosyllabic reply, but Malcolm doesn't seem to notice. I think the cold is getting to both of us.  
  
"Look, see that man in a white coat talking to a woman in a blue dress? And look over there, that man has a bandage on his head."  
  
I fiddle with my binoculars until I can see what he's talking about, it's hard because they don't have the image stabilizers of our modern ones. "Yeah, I see 'em."  
  
He takes one last look before slithering back the way we came and I follow him to the base of a large tree. It's gotten darker so that I can't see his face very well, and I'm certain the temperature has dipped even lower. I can barely keep my teeth from chattering and my nose feels like it's being burned by the cold air. I press close to Malcolm, trying to get out of the wind that has picked up. "What's the plan?" I squint and see that his lips are pressed into a thin, blue line. "Or isn't there one?"  
  
Malcolm gives a barking chuckle that's half shiver and burrows into my side. "Why do we always wind up freezing our arses off in a near hopeless situation?"  
  
Murphy's ghost picks that moment to show us that things could, indeed, be worse and a flicker of lightening shoots through the sky before a sleety snow starts to fall. "Just lucky I guess."  
  
"Well we can't stay here, we'll freeze before morning." Malcolm shifts and I can practically feel the tension radiating off him.  
  
"I suppose just walking up and saying 'hi' is out of the question?"  
  
"They'd probably decide we're deserters for not being on patrol. Although, they are a hospital and people are bound to know they're here." He shifts and I can feel him fumbling with something by his boot. Suddenly he takes a firm hold of my wrist with his left hand and I see he's got his boot knife in his right.  
  
"Wha-" He raises the knife and before I can do anything he slashes across his left shoulder and down the arm. "Malcolm!" He gives a grunt of pain and drops the knife in favour of grabbing at the wound. "What the hell are you doing? We've got to get you to a doctor." I try to grab him so I can haul him to his feet, but he pushes me away.  
  
"Just..wait..." There's a hitch of pain in his voice. He's really hurt himself. "It can't look too fresh."  
  
"What?" A bloodied patch is forming on his uniform at an alarming rate and it's keeping me from thinking straight.  
  
"Our story..." He's got his eyes screwed shut against the pain. "We were on patrol when a man with a knife jumped out at us. You shot him and then helped me walk here because it wasn't too far away." There's another flash of lightening and I can see how violently he's shivering. He could be going into shock. "Have you got that, Trip?"  
  
I type furiously into the UT until it comes up with the German for what I'll need to say. "I've got it, I've got it." I grab him as best I can and haul upwards so that he's standing awkwardly against me.  
  
"Not yet." Malcolm tries to twist away, but can't wrench himself free. The sleet comes down even harder and stings my face as I wrap an arm firmly around him. I feel so cold I don't know how it's not snowing.  
  
"Now, Malcolm." Somehow I manage to manhandle him into moving and curse my numb toes as we slip and stumble over the uneven ground. It feels like the sleet is freezing where it lands and that makes the going all that more difficult. We break into the clearing and I speed up our shuffling gait. There's a shout as we're noticed and a figure in a white coat comes dashing out into the storm and skids to a stop just in front of us, taking in our bedraggled appearance and Malcolm's wound.  
  
"What happened?" There's only a short pause before the English translation squawks through the speaker hidden in my ear. I offer a silent thanks to Hoshi for getting the UT programmed properly.  
  
I stumble through the phonetic German as best I can, "A man with a knife attacked us. He cut my friend before I shot him."  
  
The doctor gives a curt nod and yells into the wind. "This way." He leads the way into the nearest tent and I sit Malcolm down on the only free cot. We work together to pull the wet clothing off his upper body until he's naked from the waist up. The doctor grabs Malcolm's feet and expertly flips them up onto the foot of the bed in a way that causes Malcolm to twist and land with his head on the pillow. "Hold this over where he's bleeding the most." After giving that instruction he turns and hurries away. I take the thick bandage and press firmly down on Malcolm's shoulder. With his eyes only half open he looks barely conscious. I offer a quick prayer to nameless deities that it's just an act.  
  
All at once he's back holding something carefully in his hand. He adjusts a light and then bats my hands away and lifts off the bloody cloth. I watch in horrified fascination as he pinches the edges of the wound together with one hand and brandishes a needle and thread in the other. At the first thrust of the needle Malcolm lets loose a hiss of pain and I have to suppress the urge to take his hand. Although I feel slightly ill at the sight I can't look away as the doctor carefully closes the wound with a neat row of stitches. When he's done he pulls a length of bandage from his pocket and quickly winds it over the area. That done he turns to me. "He'll be fine. Someone will come by with some hot food for both of you. Try to get him to eat some if he's able to. You can stay here tonight so long as you keep out of the way." Someone at the far end of the tent calls out and he hurries away.  
  
I sink onto a nearby folding chair in relief and only then really start to process my surroundings. People are moaning and crying out, the thick canvas walls of the tent are being buffeted by the wind and through it all doctors and nurses hurry from bed to bed. I finally realize how cold I am and wrap my arms tightly around my chest. Someone is making small whimpering noises and I try to tune them out so I can think.  
  
"Obergrenadier?"  
  
It takes me a minute to realize that the softly spoken word is directed at me. I look up and find a young woman standing in front of me. She's wearing an apron and a crisp white cap and I'm so tired it takes me a second to realize she's a nurse. "Wie bitte?"  
  
She smiles warmly, but fatigue is plain in her eyes. "Food and blankets for you and your friend." I take the metal mugs she hands to me and she sets two rough brown blankets down on Malcolm's legs.  
  
The aroma of the soup makes my stomach rumble and I give her the best smile I can manage. "Danke." She just nods and hurries away. I carefully set the mugs on the ground and stand up. One blanket I set on my chair for later, the other I start to unfold over the cot. "Malcolm?"  
  
His eyes snap open and he looks around quickly before whispering urgently, "Don't call me that."  
  
I frown, I'm so tired I can't think straight. "What's wrong with it?"  
  
"Other than being," His voice is so soft I have to lean in to hear as he hisses, "Scottish?"  
  
Oops. Cursing my own stupidity I use spreading the blanket over him as an excuse to lean in close. As I tuck it around his neck I murmur, "What should I call you?"  
  
"You can be Hans. I'll be Max, short for Maximilian."  
  
I quickly duck down and retrieve the mugs before I can accidentally knock them over. "Well, Max, looks like soup's for dinner." He gives me a weak grin before struggling to sit up, wincing as the motion pulls at his wound. I quickly transfer both mugs to one hand and help him up, sliding onto the cot so he can lean back against me. As we sit and slurp our soup I realize that Malcolm's body is a comforting weight against my side. In fact, I find most things about Malcolm comforting these days. It's an idea that has been growing on me for a while now, I just never realized how close we had actually become until my little sobfest in his quarters. I want to put my arm around him, but, as he'd no doubt tell me, this is neither the time nor the place. Instead I settle for taking the empty mug from him and helping him settle down before pulling the blanket back up. Once he looks comfortable I retreat to my chair and wrap myself up in the other blanket.  
  
After a moment Malcolm fidgets slightly on the bed wincing a few times as his wound is jostled. I'm about to say something when he shoots me a quelling glance. He fidgets some more before whispering very softly, "Would you mind taking a look at this?"  
  
I'm about to ask him what "this" is when I notice a corner of the scanner peeking out from under his blanket. I quickly take it and pull it under my blanket, dimming the screen as I turn it on so that no one will see the light and get suspicious. Jon's biosign is registering only ten meters away, he must be in the next tent. I turn it off and school my features as I look up. There's a nurse checking on a man who's on the second cot over. My UT is in my jacket pocket so I set it to broadcast German and hold it up by my chin, carefully hidden from the other people by my hand. The volume is turned up so I can whisper English into it and it will relay German at a normal level. So long as no one looks closely at my lips they'll probably think I'm talking while resting my chin on my hand. "Remember Yohann, who lived next door to me?"  
  
Malcolm raises an eyebrow, but plays along. "Ja." His earpiece is working fine, but without a UT to talk into he's limited to the German he actually knows. While Hoshi is a great teacher, there's only so much a person can learn in a half hour crash course.  
  
I shrug, but I don't think anyone is paying any attention to us right now. "We should try to see him sometime. What do you think?"  
  
"Später."  
  
I nod my agreement and settle down to wait, pulling my blanket as snug as it will go.  
  


2718282

  
  
I start awake when my shoulder is prodded, I can't even remember feeling like I was going to drift off. Most of the lamps in the tent have been extinguished and aside from some fitful sleepers it's mostly quiet. "The night nurse has stepped out for some reason."  
  
I throw off my blanket and rub the sleep out of my eyes. "Can you walk?"  
  
Malcolm gives me a wry smile. "I did choose my left shoulder for a particular reason." He carefully sits up and rolls off the cot with a hiss of pain. "In this case it's the most useless part of me."  
  
I find his discarded jacket and help him slip it on, whispering in his ear as I do so, "What should I say if they catch us?"   
  
Malcolm's lip curls. "Tell them I refuse to piss in a pot."  
  
We creep out of our tent and hurry over to the next one. By the time we step inside we're shivering all over again. I stop dead when I see the nurse sitting just inside the door. Malcolm keeps going and gives a firm tug on my hand to pull me along. I feel weak with relief when I realize what he's already seen: she's fast asleep.  
  
Running on fumes of adrenaline we creep between the rows of cots until we find one with a familiar figure on it. The cap'n is out cold with a bandage on his head and thick restraints holding him to the bed. Malcolm signals for me to undo the restraints and makes for the head of the bed. He uses his right hand to firmly cover Jon's mouth while he prods him awake. Two pokes to his chest and Jon's flinching away from the contact as his eyes flutter open. He has a definite moment of panic before he realizes who's holding him down. Just as I get the last cuff unbuckled I'm aware of the soft murmur of approaching voices. One look at Malcolm's wide eyes tells me he's heard them too. In a near panic he grabs the cap'n and roughly pulls him off the cot. Jon gives a soft, startled squawk at the sudden motion which Malcolm ignores as he grabs my arm and yanks me down as well. The three of us are awkwardly hidden by the bed as I fumble in my jacket until I find the homing beacon and activate it. The voices get louder and I hear footfalls as people actually enter our tent. Just as I hear a startled exclamation the drab canvas fades out and is replaced by a brightly lit corridor. We've made it.  
  
My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it could batter its way clear out of my chest. I turn and see Jon looking from Malcolm's pale face to me. "Trip? Malcolm?" A wave of relief and fatigue rolls over me and I just collapse backwards with a silly grin on my face.  
  
"I never, ever, wanna do that again, Cap'n."  
  
Malcolm chuckles at that and sinks down onto the transporter pad as well. The temperature controlled air on Enterprise feels unnaturally warm and it's a welcome relief from the cold on Earth.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
I think I can hear Malcolm's smirk when he replies, "It's a long story, Captain."  
  
Any further questions are forestalled by Phlox appearing with a pair of assistants. He immediately starts fussing over us as the med techs unfold a gurney. I eye the contraption in distaste and quickly sit up. "I can walk."  
  
Malcolm's quick to jump on the bandwagon. "So can I."  
  
Phlox is unsurprised by our declarations and merely turns to Jon. "Very well then. Captain, if you'll sit up the crewmen will help you onto the gurney."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Captain." The doc fixes his patient with a pointed look and, grumbling, Jon obeys. When he's settled Malcolm and I haul ourselves to our feet and wobble as the fatigue hits us full force. I put my arm around Malcolm as we stumble after the gurney carrying the Captain to sickbay, and he doesn't try to shrug it off.  
  



End file.
